Sacrificial Brides
by MadameMalfoy21
Summary: The first bride had gone to Laito. The third, to Kanato.
1. The First Bride

There was something about the first bride that was a bit different from the others. Perhaps it was because she was the first to die. But if one were to ask the brothers, they'd have said it was her eyes. Sharp and snake-like, the golden green that emanated from her gaze was unparalleled. If one had to make a comparison, they might almost say she had…

"Nee, Cora, tell me you love me."

"I love you."

She learned rather quickly that indulging in the vampire's requests would mean a much less painful life. Or rather, what remained of her life.

Because she knew she had been sent to die. A sacrificial offering to the monsters that threatened the church.

But she was no Holy Virgin.

An old maid, by the church's standards. Already twenty-four and with no foreseeable prospects in life. An orphan that no one cared about, raised in the monastery. The choice was only all too obvious when talk of a blood sacrifice came about.

Repaying an old debt, is what they said. The Lord saved you, they said. She wasn't aware that God was one to collect favors. If that were so, she would have chosen to die much sooner.

Of course, there was no such thing as God. That much, at least, she knew. And she knew that despite this lack of God, there was an ever-present devil.

And his name was Laito Sakamaki.

Hair red like the flames of hell, and eyes green like Hades' sea of souls. But perhaps the cruelest attribute held by this Lucifer was the simple fact that he was beautiful.

He took her blood; her flesh. One day, she knew, he would also take her life.

What she _didn't_ know was why Laito looked at her the way he did. Nor did she understand why Ayato glared upon her with such disdain.

For all of Laito's Faustian aura, there was a certain dullness behind the high-pitched laughter. It made her more uneasy than Ayato's deadly glares.

The worst, however, was Kanato, who did not look at her in any particular sort of way. He simply… _looked._ And he would continue to _look,_ cocking his head and whispering to his teddy bear.

"What was your name again?" He always seemed genuinely curious, requesting this ever important bit of information.

"Cora." She'd reply simply.

"Co-ra…" Kanato would repeat, as though he were lost in a dream. He'd then murmur something she couldn't hear to the stuffed bear, and look her up and down, examining her frame.

"You're too short," He'd decide, or determine that her hair was too black, or something else that seemed to reject whatever train of thought he had so obviously calculated in his head. He would then end the interaction by declaring her hair to be hideous. That hair like his was indeed much better.

Laito, like Kanato, agreed on the subject.

Laito giggled often. And he kissed her often. But mostly, he tugged at her black hair, calling it ugly. Saying that she'd look better with a lighter shade. That when it was like this, she looked like a gypsy.

"Fufu, is that why you're such a slut Cora? Because you're a gypsy?"

She would always reply the same way. "I don't know what I am."

It was an answer that always triggered that scary smile to crawl upon his face. "Don't you know?" He would say, licking his lips, "You're mine."

She didn't quite understand the dynamic that existed between vampires. Once Laito had claimed her as his, the others seemed to ignore her. Which suited her just fine. But she had assumed she'd be drained upon arriving.

Perhaps Laito enjoyed playing with his food.

But as the weeks dragged on, she soon learned from her captor that the reason behind the other vampires' indifference was due to the fact that her blood was positively average. Which, apparently, was a good thing for her.

Laito didn't seem to mind. But if her blood was nothing special, then she couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with her, when the others simply were not.

It was frightening, to a certain extent. Especially in the moments where his playful facade began to crack. Could a vampire be driven to madness? If Laito was any example, she believed herself walking on his tightrope of insanity. In his world, there existed no safety net. And Laito had a way of snapping the rope without warning.

There came a day when she looked upon the face of death. Did not die for reasons unknown to her, memory failing her— or perhaps purposely evading her. But certain things were perfectly clear: Laito's laugh ringing in her ears, her blood— her spilled and soiled blood— splattered against his sleeves, dripping down his lips. The sharp pain between her legs, her flesh torn; claimed and stolen by the vampire that panted above her.

"Fufu, nee, nee, call me a good boy! I'm a good boy, aren't I?!"

Her throat had long since been void of sound, and she could not remember whether or not she had the strength to indulge him.

But by what obligation was she bound to him, he who had robbed her of everything?

Tremors still raked her body when the unfortunate memory returned in flashes. And without realizing, tears stained her cheeks, just as they had that day. But here the memory would fail, because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember whether those tears had been his, or hers.

If he were only a monster, it would not have been so cruel.

"Nee, Cora, do you want to be more attractive?" He said one day.

She didn't know what he meant by that. With the amount of times he claimed her body, she didn't think it took very much to capture his attentions. But going against him, especially when his voice was so sickeningly sweet, would result only in torment.

"I would, Laito." She said politely.

He seemed to purr in excitement, clapping his hands and then grabbing her by the arm, leading her down a maze of halls.

They stopped in front of a room she'd never seen before, the large door heavy and intimidating. Laito's giggles seemed to rise, his hand excitedly twisting at the handle so as to open the door. She held her breath, though she did not know why, when Laito tightened his grip on her wrist, pulling her inside.

The room was hopelessly plain. The windows sealed shut, framed by dark drapes weighed down by dust. An armoire stood in the back corner, facing the door. It looked…out of place. Laito led her closer, urging her to open it. Inside rested nothing but a dress; navy with white ruffles, a blinding white rose splattered with red, the sleeves somewhat torn.

She may have imagined it; hoped she'd imagined it— but the sudden scent of blood filled her lungs.

"Laito," she began cautiously, "…What is this?"

His hands snaked around her waist, holding her from behind, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Try it on."

It was obvious enough. The torn fabric, the streaks of red. It was inevitable. What she always knew was destined to happen. And even as she stripped down, stepping into the ball gown stained in stranger's blood, she remained perfectly calm, accepting things for what they were.

Because, her entire life had progressed without purpose. So it was only fitting that she die in the same manner. But, as she adjusted the strap on the ripped sleeve, looking at the vampire that'd become her keeper, she couldn't help but wonder if this death _did_ have purpose. If not to her, then perhaps to him.

Laito visibly shivered before her, his fangs bared as he smiled, "You look so scared!" He whined happily, rushing up to her. Her muscles froze.

"You are, aren't you?" He whispered, his breath now on her lips.

She dared not answer, her breath catching.

He brought his palms against her cheeks, cupping her face, the sudden cold still managing to shock her, even after all this time. With uncharacteristic tenderness he pulled her in, guiding her lips so that she was just a breath's distance from his own. " _Cordelia,"_ he whispered, gleam lining his eyes, making them shine despite the darkness of the room. "I'll do it right this time. Not with Ayato's filthy hands."

Her breath was stolen from her, Laito granting her a deep kiss.

 _Cordelia._ She'd heard the name before. But the only thing she could gather from it, was that it was either a woman he loved far too much, or hated with all his being.

But she would remain in ignorance, knowing nothing more than the feel of a knife against her chest, slicing the flesh, and taking her life.

* * *

 **A/N: I feel like I wanna do Kanato next because I've had that idea for a while...and also I love Kanato.**


	2. Til Death Do Us Part

_In the entirety of his collection, only one had ever been granted a veil._

The first bride had gone to Laito. The second to Shu. Kanato made sure the third would become his.

She was a dumb sort of thing. Above all else, she wanted to die. Which was precisely why he didn't kill her. Because why should he have to do what she wanted? He was not so chivalrous. And among other things, her blood was sweet.

He loved sweet things.

At first, he made sure his bites were painful. Scream worthy. Her screams weren't half bad, even if they _were_ noisy. But she was strange. Much stranger than any human. She talked a lot, which he did not care for. She had bright red lipstick that reminded him of her blood, though it did not taste nearly as good. Her hair she wore up in the fashion of the day, making it look shorter than it actually was; curlier than it actually was.

The heels she wore always announced her presence, letting him know where she was at any given moment, always chasing after him with irritating _click-clacks._ Oh, it raged him. Those shoes that filled up his heavenly silence.

It made him bite harder, if only out of anger, or perhaps out of spite, eliciting a shriek that would drown out the inane clacking of her heels. If only it were enough to silence her forever. How pretty she would look, he thought, her lips pursed politely and incapable of utterance, instead of her insufferable _"Won't you take more?"_

She thought it was her destiny. Like she would be fulfilling some sort of greater purpose if she gave up her life to a vampire. But when she looked at him like that, looked at him with such _happy_ eyes, when he was doing nothing more than brutishly sucking away her life, it made him fly into a blind fit of rage.

He showed her what it truly meant to wish for an end.

And the look in her eyes, the first time she honestly begged for death, or perhaps it was for her own life, he didn't know; didn't care, the words nothing but a forgotten whisper on her lips…that was the first time he thought she looked beautiful.

So he made sure that beauty never left her frightened eyes.

With such honest expressions, he did not find her so irksome, despite the insufferable clicking of her shoes, and the irritating quiet of her softly whispered words. But slowly, more and more, he began to revel in her hesitation, because those trembling lips were just as honest as those terrified eyes. And making that sweet blood rise to her cheeks in flushed embarrassment, her entire expression now so lovingly shy, it became a guilty pleasure he hadn't even realized he'd begun to indulge in.

"Fufu, can't say it? Go on," he had said, with a charming smile, cocking his head innocently, "Tell me what you like."

Desperate eyes scanned his face, and he knew she was searching for the answer that would please him most. But in the end, as always, she could be nothing but honest.

"I like…when you kiss me before. Somehow…"

He didn't dare break his gaze from her, not fully understanding, finding the request somewhat tedious, somewhat intriguing, needing to hear the rest of her sentence, would hurt her if she didn't, would _make_ her say it, because whatever it was, something in him was screaming to know.

"Somehow I…" she had lowered her gaze, her lashes fluttering downwards, "…it makes your bites…" She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes finishing the sentence for her. Kanato smirked, leaning down to kiss her, accompanying it with soft teases because more than anything it was satisfying. And she had answered his question after all, good little doll that she'd become, shy though she was.

And he would have kept her forever, had her lips not betrayed her eyes. Or perhaps it was the fact that her lips had become _too_ honest, making her far too _real._ She was a doll. Obedient and quiet. Dolls were not supposed to speak so freely.

 _"I love you."_

He didn't understand it. His mother had loved him. He didn't want something like love.

And he hated it. He _hated_ it. Because why couldn't she have kept quiet? Didn't she know what was going to happen? How could she betray him in such a way? She, who he'd devoted so much to, who he'd _shown_ so much to, who _knew_ him—

Wasn't this her fault, after all?

If she had just continued to kiss him with those soft lips, kept them quiet, nodded her head like he told her to, it wouldn't have come to this. It could have been better. She knew that. She was supposed to _know_ —

Oh, but it was hilarious. How his laughter almost outdid her screams. Such an honest sound, those screams. He can still hear them, if he tries.

How exciting, that he still gets goosebumps from recalling the memory alone.

But those words…

Those three words that he could not define. Did not know if they were real or a lie. But the thought of his honest little doll, so shy and and with such pure eyes…

Could those red lips carry the sin of such a lie?

He hadn't believed it, back then. _Couldn't_ believe it, didn't _want_ to, everything beginning to blur into one, the only thing that kept him in place had been his own laughter and her tear-stained shrieks, proving to him that _this_ was real, that _this_ was the truth, and that it couldn't be taken away from him.

After all that time, with the insanity of fire, and the taste of her screams on his lips, he gave her what it was she had always wanted most, in nothing but a matter of moments.

And once again, Kanato had found himself in numbing silence.

She was cold. He didn't care much for it. A strange sensation had pounded in his head, another slashing at his chest.

And he had laughed, softly at first, loudly once the tears began to fall, down his cheeks and onto her limp body that fit a bit too easily in his arms, her blood spilled all over his sleeves, those honest eyes damned to remain forever open.

But Kanato still found them beautiful.

Enough to keep, he thought, to the end of time.


End file.
